


Not This

by genee



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-02
Updated: 2006-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-12 11:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genee/pseuds/genee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Following Saracen around is stupid, but Tim can't make himself stop doing it.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Not This

**Author's Note:**

> Possible Season 1 spoilers.

Following Saracen around is stupid, but Tim can't make himself stop doing it, not for Tyra, that's for fuckin' sure, and not for Lyla, either. It's stupid, and it's not gonna change anything, and Jason's never gonna walk again, never gonna play football again, never gonna sneak up behind him again, already laughing, warm breath in Tim's ear and those big arms wrapped around him like it's nothing, like Tim was all that mattered.

So, it's stupid. Following Saracen won't change any of that, won't make anything okay again, not anything, and he knows that, but Saracen's all he has now, and there's no way in hell Tim's gonna lose him, too.

\--

When Coach says Saracen needs to loosen up some, Tim's been following him long enough to know Coach ain't wrong, not about that. Saracen's wound so tight he can't hardly get his words out right, and maybe Tim can't make everything okay again, can't not fuck up all the things he's already fucked up, but he can do this, he can. He even wants to do it, wants to stand too close to Saracen in the hallway, wants to touch his arm and make him blush all pretty, make him smile.

Tim doesn't even have to say much, he just has to be there, walk with him after practice, ask him to come in a minute, just a minute, c'mon. Dusty sunshine and dirty dishes and Matt pressed up against the far wall, jeans hanging low on his hips and Tim's hand spread out over his belly, hot skin and a trail of fine soft hair and Matt's hard in about two seconds, hard and gasping and this, fuck, this is so far from what Coach meant Tim might laugh if he could catch his breath, if he wasn't breathin' heavy, if his dick wasn't pressed against Matt's hip, poking out over the top of his jeans all dark and leaky like it is.

Matt moans real sweet, and Tim tugs at his fly until the buttons pop, reaches into his boxers and wraps his hand around Matt's dick, heavier than he expected, hot and sticky and alive, pulsing when he rubs his thumb over the slick head. It takes him another minute to undo his own jeans and get his hand around them both, Matt cursing low and wild, his voice all shaky, come spurting in between them hot and wet, his dick sliding against Matt's easy now, easy and good and Matt still gasping, fingers digging into Tim's biceps and twisting in his hair, making him feel just as desperate, just as needy when he comes, his mouth open, soft sounds pressed against Matt's throat.

\--

"You do this for Jason, too?" Matt asks, after, and Tim blinks, drags his fingers through the come on Matt's skin. Matt swears, and it sounds different from before, farther away, and maybe there's still not much Tim can do, he can't fix things, can't make things right for anyone else, but he can do this, he can do this one thing.

"Nah," Tim says, shaking his head, pulling back to look, to see. Matt's really beautiful like this, sweaty, leaning up against the wall, dick half hard in his open fly and his shirt all rucked up, loose, just like Coach said. "Not this," he says, grinning, and Matt follows, smiling real slow. "Not this."   
   
   


\-- END --


End file.
